Not A Love Song
by Rosegardens
Summary: "This was far from a love song, but this was the perfect start to their cheesy beginning." A collection of one-shots navigating both the friendship and romance of Dez and Trish. [Trez]
1. Cheesy Beginnings

She was cherry chapstick and failed job attempts at the beginning of every summer. Like this one, she was in the pit of the heat, knee deep in "Guess who got job at's" and the never ending demise of being fired by the end of the day. Although she'd never admit it, she _hated_ it. It's not that she was lazy or couldn't put in the hard work; wait— she actually was a _little_ lazy and tended to blow everything off. It was her unspoken identity. Trish Del La Rosa, a girl who couldn't keep a job for more than a week. The girl you couldn't count on. _The girl you couldn't count on._

Though it wasn't anybody else's fault but her own. She had crafted this disgusting persona of herself for people to chew up and spit out. Yet she never really felt the problem lied within herself most of the time. She felt as if she never really enjoyed the jobs she chose to get herself involved it. " _Excuses, excuses."_ she would tell herself every morning on her way to another wretched workplace. The only job she found herself treading through deep waters for was being both Austin's and Ally's manager. Sometimes it felt like the only thing she knew, the only thing she was decently good at. Sadly even then, she managed to screw up even the best of her career.

Being manager was like being in a safe haven. Her friends often forgave her for every little moment of selfishness and immaturity and greediness. It was a vicious cycle of sketchy opportunities, her major slip ups, and a big group hug for whenever she found a way to resolve everything. She craved so heavily for it to end, for her to be straightforwardly perfect at all times. Though that wouldn't be Trish Del La Rosa; goddess of all things pity worthy.

She rolled her eyes at the thought of her two clients. There wasn't much managing to do when both took time out of their day to suck face and "find each other", whatever that meant. As much as she was happy for them finding love after their countless breakups and resorting back to friends, she kinda wished she'd focus on the aspect on what they've been doing for almost five years. Maybe it was the jealously of her best friend overcoming her stage fright and becoming who she is today beside a loving, and let's not forget _famous_ boyfriend. Where was her excitement? Where was her prince in leather armor to swoop her up and go through this journey of ups and downs?

There were no princes in scrubbing floors and washing dishes, though. It was already weird enough for her to think about romance either way. She took no interest into what Miami had to offer nor had she had anyone blatantly ask her out. Sure, she had went through countless bullying incidents that without a doubt tore down the walls she took so much time building. Yet she was confident in how she looked and she honestly didn't care whether some beach bum didn't find her attractive. Why'd everyone think she made a song catered to people wishing they were her?

Sunlight spilled through the open windows of 'Grilled Cheese, Please'. It was another job in her continuous line of expected failure and she determined to accept it. She silently swept the floor while her peculiar coworker, Ryder Maxwell stood behind the counter whispering things to his block of cheese. He named it Charlene and brought it with him everyday to work. His southern accent was often too thick for understanding, which seldom drove Trish to ignore him. She usually got him to do her job while she sat at one of the tables reading some fashion magazine, but today had been filled with too much thought of who she wanted to be.

If the black haired weirdo could do his job properly, why couldn't she? As tempting as it was to curl up and ignore her responsibilities, her fingers just couldn't leave the aching grasp of her cleaning utensils. The air smelled of bleach and some cheap car freshener to waver the smell away. Business was slow like always. If they were lucky, an old couple or some lost tourists would stumble in here to lessen their hunger, but that was about it. Grilled cheese didn't beat pizza or ice cream or something as trendy as that. She was mostly grateful, not having to deal with pesky customers who's order wound up wrong or somebody's dumb screaming baby.

Sighing, she everything to it's rightful closet and began to work on cleaning the counters. Ryder mumbled a few more incoherent sentences to the cheese and turned to Trish. His calloused palms fell on top of hers, causing Trish's to turn red and swat his hand away.

"I'll clean the counters for ya darlin'." He drawled, his lips upwards in a smile.

"Um, no thank you Ryder. I think I got this one today." She smiled tightly, flickering her back to the dirty surface.

"But you never do your own work." He whined.

"But I think I want to do it today."

Did she forget to mention that the few times she actually talked to Ryder, he was either sickly sweet or just a total prick? He was cute with his dark curls and green eyes, but not in the cute she wanted to date. He was _too_ much of a gentlemen, in fact. Which made her suspicious. What was all the hand touching for?

 _"Who are you trying to impress?"_

She narrowed her dark brown eyes, careful to keep her own hands to herself. She was only trying to boost her confidence with this whole job thing. There was no one to impress but herself in this situation. Her friends didn't know of her closeted vulnerability. She could see what he was getting at, and that made her all the more furious. Stopping what she was doing, she turned toward him and slammed his back into the wall. Her blood boiling even more when he smirked.

"You're a feisty one. I like that." He crooned.

"And you'll be a dead one if you don't shut it. I don't have to impress anyone. Yea, I got you to do my job for the past two days I've been here. But don't think for one second I'm catering to anyone." She gritted.

"I'll still cater to you. I mean, if it makes you feel any better."

Trish would have said pummeled him if it weren't for the chime of the door cuing that they had a customer. She glared at Ryder and brushed off her apron, turning around to give whomever her best cheery smile.

Although her face looked friendly, she gave off a bored "Welcome to Grilled Cheese, Please. The only place where a plate comes with a smile."

Her eyes slightly widen when she realized the familiar freckled face, auburn haired kid who annoyed her to no possible end. His smile was genuine, his long legs dressed in checkerboard jeans and a t-shirt they had gotten from a Zalien convention. As the days grew longer, it seemed as if he had gotten taller. She maybe have really been invisible now.

"I thought you were working at Cherry On Top." He spoke, hands deep in his pockets.

"I _was_. But apparently workers can't eat all the free ice cream they want. I still owe them payment in all that ice cream I ate." She replied.

"Well I would like one triple cheese sandwich with a large cola."

"Will that be for here or to go?"

"Um, I'm standing in here, duh."

Trish rolled her and turned back toward Ryder. "Get the man his order."

"Anything for you, sweet cheeks." Ryder winked, walking toward the cash register.

Retrieving her magazine from the back, she takes her usual seat at one of the tables near the window. It was a small eatery, with an 60's type of feel to it. The tiled floor reminded her of Dez's jeans with it's black and white checkboard theme. A unused jukebox collected dust in the corner while dim light fixtures hung overhead as if they were to fall and injure someone in an instant. 60's style paintings decorated the teal wall that reminded her of chipped nail polish. It obviously didn't appeal to Miami's mainstream crowd. She flipped through the pages of photoshopped models and celebrity breakups, expensive clothing and what would be next week's gossip.

So engrossed into the process kicking back and scanning over the latest trends, she hadn't even noticed Dez sitting down across from her. He gazed at her intently, blue eyes taking in the décor of her outfit and the way her lashes looked when she blinked. She wore a headband with a plastic grill cheese model stuck to it. He liked the brightness of the yellow shirt under the stained apron. He thought the color looked nice on her and he grinned at the thought.

"What's so funny?" She questioned, peering over the magazine.

"Oh, I just really liked your grilled cheese headband." He responded, his face a shade of pink from being caught.

"You can have it whenever I'm fired from this place."

Before he could reply with his words of encouragement, Trish finished up for him.

"So, why aren't you hanging out with Austin?"

"I don't wanna play third wheel with Austin and Ally anymore. It's not a very fun game." He sipped his soda in disgust.

"That's because it isn't a game, Dez. It's just how a couple makes a single person feel whenever you agree to go with them on some dinner date or something." She sighed.

"I don't care. I just want someone to hang out with me until I get the _real_ Austin back."

"I mean I'll hang out with you. They're just going through the honeymoon phase."

"Really?"

Trish nodded her head, returning her attention back to the magazine. She was actually _sympathizing_ with Dez. For once she could relate with how he felt. She was waiting for Ally to snap out of it too. Sure, her and Ally weren't entirely connected at the butt like Dez and Austin were, but their friendship still meant something to her and it felt kinda agonizing to give it all away to some guy. If that made sense. Maybe it was a possibility that she even felt _sorry_ for Dez.

"So how about the movies? I heard a new horror movie came out by the same people who made Zaliens!" He suggested, one of the stupidest grins his face could produce.

"Sure."

They sat in silence for the remainder of Dez's eating. Trish noticed how his smile stayed between bites of melted cheese and burnt crust. She shook her head, never understanding what quite went on in his head. Everyone pretty much thought he was stupid or "special" to put it in terms. She'd admit, she shamefully thought he was far off most of the time to. Though her and other people had to realize that Dez was a complicated human being with feelings and an even more complicated way of thinking. Maybe she wanted to understand that. She wished he'd babble to hush away all the thoughts infiltrating her head.

"I'll pick you up at eight." He spoke, spewing crumbs.

She watched as he pushed his chair forward and headed toward the trash can. It wasn't until he was halfway at the door until something went off in her head.

"Dez, wait—"

Biting on her freshly done nails, he whirled right around.

"Don't be late you, doof." She mumbled.

Dez simply smiled and promised her he'd be directly on time before finally departing. Now that he was gone, her mind went back to the same busy stage it had been all morning. _"I'll pick you up at eight, I'll pick you up at eight." Was this a date?_ She thought to herself, overreacting. She could have just drove herself over to the theater, but he insisted on driving her. She's could exactly say no to that. _"He just wants someone to hang out with." "No one has a date at the movies anymore." "Didn't he like that Kimmy girl?"_

"What happened to being an independent woman, Trish?" She mumbled to herself, gathering her things.

"Look's like you got yourself a hot date." Ryder hollered and whistled, as if it weren't just the two of them in there.

"Shut up." She replied, hurling her magazine toward him.

The only thing she heard as she walked out was the cries of Ryder from paper cut. _"It wasn't a date. It couldn't be."_

 **—**

Trish Del La Rosa never worried about what to wear. At least not until tonight. The clock is on 7:30 and it feels like she's swimming in a pile of her own clothes. Dresses and skirts were too intricate for what they were doing tonight. Though she didn't want to look like she didn't care if Dez planned on driving her through another one of his crazy shenanigans tonight. Blowing a frizzy curl from her face, she settled on a pair of her signature black tights and a grey shirt with a drawing of a rose. She contained her hair with a simple green headband, because brushing it would have made it extremely worse. It would never be Trish without those flats either.

She couldn't worry too long because it was almost eight and she was half-expecting Dez to keep his promise. She's biting her lip and putting earrings in her and just being more nervous than she should be. She shouldn't care about stupid stuff about this. _She shouldn't care about Dez._ She was just doing this so he could feel better about Austin being away. Being mean to Dez was her thing, so why was it so hard to look at this in a different light?

The clock is on eight and the sight of Dez's headlights illuminate her. She smells of citrusy perfume and she secretly hope Dez likes it. All she can think about is those ocean eyes watching her and him grinning like an idiot because the idea of her grilled cheese headband made him happy. She never cared about what anybody thought, so why was Dez opinion so important to her now?

"Why are you wearing a tie?" Trish questions, her heart rate speeding up.

"I think everyone should wear a tie to the movies." He replied, fixing it before backing out of the driveway.

She smiles because she thinks he's weird, out of his mind. But he's not Ryder Maxwell weird. He's the _good_ kind of weird and it makes her stomach erupt into a home for butterflies. He interrupts to ask her what kind of music she wants to listen to as if it matters at all. She's driving in the passenger seat of Dezmond Wade's car and he's paying attention to her music taste while she's paying attention to the way his face is a shade of pink and his fingernails are worn down. Seeing Dez nervous was a rarity, and it made her realize that maybe it was more to Dez than everyone led on.

They're at the movies and he's dressed in plaid jeans and a shirt decorated with tacos. He walks at the same speed beside her, causing their arms to brush against each other. Trish kept her gaze down, not wanting him to see through the dark night the effect he had on her. They're at the ticket window, Dez cheerfully asking for their pair.

"Two tickets for Alien Blood, please!"

"That'll be thirty bucks." The monotonous pimple-faced teen spoke behind the glass.

"I'll pay for it." Trish offered, fishing through her purse for some crumpled bills.

"Good, because I forgot my wallet." He smiled in embarrassment.

Trish shook her head, giving the teen the money. _Classic Dez._

"You owe me one." She added, following him in the theater.

There were obviously way more people who came during the day, as the night here looked absolutely deserted. A disinterested girl stood behind the counter, fingers texting away on the latest smart phone. Her blonde hair was dyed purple at the tips and the piercing in her lip looked painful and swollen. Dez's nagging her about popcorn and the girl behind the counter with the name "Rebecca" is smirking at them. Trish finally makes her mind and decides to get him the fudging popcorn because he already owes her back anyway.

"You two are cute." The girl smiled, scooping popcorn into a large box.

"We're not together!" They speak in unison.

The girl gives them their popcorn and their walking toward their designated room but not without a _"Enjoy your movie, lovebirds!"_ which makes Trish look like a tomato. Their brushing arms again before they take a seat in the all too empty room. They're greeted by sponsors of products and ads of other movies or television shows. She watches as Dez holds no self control, eating up all the popcorn before the movie even started. His hair has started to grow a little longer, hitting the nape of his neck, swooping before his eyes. She found his freckles... _cute?_

Was it even normal to find Dezmond Wade remotely attractive? She shook the thought, not being able to figure out any excuses for when she was caught. She didn't think _he_ was cute. She thought his freckles were. So why was the constant beat of her heart speeding up? Why did she feel so terrified of talking to the one person she thought she hated? She thought she might has well vomited with the summersaults violently sitting at the pit of her stomach and oh god why was she blushing every five seconds?

"Want some?" Dez smiled, shoving the popcorn her way.

Trish said nothing, taking a handful before giving it back to him.

"Tell me if you get scared." He whispered.

"Yea, yea." Trish responded, relaxing slightly as the lights dimmed.

After the basic lecture of having their cellphones quiet and the consequences of illegally recording the movie, they were greeted by a galatic beginning and a women narrating through some basic information. From what she was told, the main character, Tara, had thought up a demonic alien hybrid when she was five years old, and now they have abducted her. They plan to destroy the planet and she is their only hope. It was pretty basic and cheesy effects were laughable. The only "scary" parts is when the creature jump scars little Tara in the flashbacks.

A high pitch scream filled her ears and butter was spilled all over her. A frightened Dez grabbed her arm and held it tightly. Startled, Trish pushes him away.

"Dez, you doof! You spilled popcorn all over me. It wasn't even that scary!" She exclaimed, swatting the popcorn away.

"Are you kidding me? This is why I sleep with the lights on!" He whispered as if someone else was gonna hear him.

"Well next time, find someone else to hold on to!" Trish sneered.

"Don't tell anyone I told you that."

"Wouldn't dream of."

That's how the next two hours went. Scream. Hold. Insults. Repeat. Oh, and somewhere in the mix Trish's emotions were out of control. At one point, Dez had gotten up to use the restroom and with that he had lightly touched Trish's knee. Next, their fingertips had touched when Trish had dropped the popcorn and they proceeded to both reach for it at the same time. Now they were at the end of the movie with Dez's light graze against her lower back that had her heart leaping out of her chest. She didn't need guidance, but she didn't necessarily want Dez to remove his hand either. For once she had felt a sense of safety.

"That was fun." Dez laughed, closing the car door.

"Yea, when Tara died at the end." Trish rolled her eyes, a small smile on her face.

"Thanks for hanging out with me today."

Trish nodded, returning her gaze back to the outside world. Rain became to fall quietly and she wished Dez would just hurry up and take her home. It wasn't supposed to end like this. She wasn't supposed to get this happy ending. She was supposed to be at Dez's throat. Dez was supposed to be cowered over in fear. _She was supposed to exude power._ She didn't want to feel fear or anxiety or questionable. The fact that Dez treated her so nicely despite the fact that she was a total prick irritated her to no end. _He was supposed to walk away._

"You didn't really look like you were having fun. I get it, I'm not Ally." He spoke.

"And I'm not Austin, but that doesn't mean I didn't have fun." She replied, her voice cracking.

"Then why do you look so, I don't know, sad?"

Trish sighed, finding more interest into the dirt under her nails then his question. He wasn't supposed to be concerned. He was supposed to be _Dez._ Oddball, happy, oblivious, Dez.

"It's just that today Ryder asked me who I was trying to impress when I decided to take responsibility and do my job."

"And why is that such a bad thing?"

"Because Dez. He proves that I'm only good for slacking, and messing up, and breaking promises. I couldn't stand you being so nice to me today. We're supposed to be at each throats. You're supposed to be scared of me. I'm supposed—"

"I'm supposed to be me." She finished.

They sat in silence and it made Trish afraid that she had said the wrong things. She played with the idea of just getting out the car and walking home in the rain, but the outside world terrified her more than that movie ever would. She needed to get out and cry and scream and build up her walls once again. _No one_ was gonna see this side of her.

"You don't have to be what people see you as. You don't have to be who you've been in the past. You can always be someone different. Just make sure that different is yourself." He smiled.

"No one ever saw me as a brain surgeon or a film direction. Obviously I chose the second option, but that was still me. That was still who I was. I don't have the answers to all the problems nor am I ever really right. But I know who I am, and your real friends will too."

Trish's smile turned into a soft laugh.

"When did you become so wise?"

"Maybe I was always wise and people just have realized. Hey that rhymes!" He smiled.

"Even if you can't keep your promises, I'll keep mines for the both of us."

"Thank you Dez, for everything. I wanna do this again sometime."

Overjoyed, Dez started the ignition and the soft buzz of bubblegum pop filled their ears. He flicked the AC, hoping to cool off some of the tension that built between them. He got back to observing Trish's features again. He memorized the exact placement of the dimples in her cheeks and the way her nose crinkled up whenever she was disgusted. The faint remembrance of her laugh was louder than the music itself, and her smile was enough to send his line of thoughts off the tracks.

And he just did.

He placed a warm kiss on her cheek. It was probably the most cowardice move ever, but it meant something to him. He hoped it meant something to Trish too.

"Dez!" She jumped, touching her rosy cheeks from where his lips had connected.

"You tell no one about this. Understood?" She demanded, holding back a smile.

"I promise. It'll just be between you and me." He smiled, driving out of the parking lot.

By then his hand was sitting atop hers as he drove with the other. It reminded her of the way Ryder back at the job, but this time it didn't emit anger. It emitted something else; a crush. She didn't protest. No sputters or spatting. Just the gushy lyrics of some love song crooning them at close proximity. She was supposed to slip up and make mistakes. But maybe she could be the best mistake Dez had ever made.

 _This was far from a love song, but it was perfect start to their cheesy beginning.  
_

* * *

 **Hey all my fellow Trez shippers! Thank you so much for checking out the first one-shot in this series. I just enjoy the thought of Dez and Trish being idiots together and navigating their awkward love for each other. I definitely felt like there should have been more coverage of their relationship on this show. Every one-shot will be a little different which ranges from K-T and through multiple genres. The rating may change for future chapters. Go ahead and grab your box of tissues or just die of laughter. You can definitely request any ideas you have and I won't hesitate to look into it. Constructive Criticism & Feedbacks are especially appreciated. Tell me your thoughts! Review, Follow, Fave. Until the next one-shot!~**


	2. The Right Side Of Wrong

Of course the inevitable happened with Trish getting fired. It was nothing new or surprising, but the reason she had gotten fired was infuriating. Ryder had gone and ratted Trish out to their boss Sharon about not fulfilling her own responsibilities. Not to mention she didn't realize until she stepped foot into the restaurant, ready to become a new her. Though that couldn't happened when a old lady was threatening you with a broom and taking away the grilled cheese headband she didn't deserved. (Unfortunately she couldn't give it away to Dez, and that made her all the more angrier.)

How could she be a newer her if the world didn't even accept the idea of her trying to be someone different? The newfound confidence she found within Dez had been shattered once Ryder had gone and been a douche about it. She got high off the idea of Ryder feeding off her failures, and maybe she loved and loathed the fact that he was infatuated with the way he was hurting her. She wanted him to lay a hand on her so she could strangle the lights out of him. Yet all she did was stand under the showerhead and cry.

She possessed a numbing headache and shaky hands that pushed Dez away whenever he came near. She told him to leave her alone whenever he expressed concern over her sickly appearance or commented on how fatigue she looked. The final straw had been met when his hands found her face and the rush of emotion washed over again much quickly this time. He was like Ryder, having so much impact on her it made her almost want to vomit. So everything ended with her smacking his touch away and telling him to shut up with all kinds of bitterness.

It's late in the afternoon and she's mentally beating herself up. All it takes is for her to close her eyes and picture the look of disappointment in his eyes to send her to tears. She knows she's a prick for not truthfully explaining what was truly bothering her. Yet she also knew it was much easier to say she went to bed late thus explaining her crankiness. She could deal with Ryder later. It wasn't Dez's problem, nor was it any of his business. She already spilled her guts out the previous night, and she wasn't really looking to show that side of herself again.

Trish sits in the limelight of a little café located in the mall. She went shopping to ease her anxieties, spending the little cash she reserved on small accessories and such. She had her eye on some dresses she had saw at some of the more expensive stores in the mall. She wondered if Dez would have liked her in the opals of some shimmery dress that fell at her feet, or in light green of a sundress. She sipped her smoothie and blushed at the thought. She imagined his fingers feeling as soft as the dress did whenever he touched her.

She wanted him to be right here with her, laughing and telling her idiotic jokes about something ridiculous. She wanted to see that little glimmer of love that flickered throughout his eyes whenever he conversed about something he loved. She wanted to hear those little moments of wisdom that shone throughout his odd behavior. She would never in a million years admit it but Dezmond Wade was infiltrating her mind and she wasn't sure if she wanted him to leave.

By now she was shaking, quivering in stupidity at the back. She longed so much for the feel of Dez holding her hand and assuring her, but she was so far out into alpha mode and demolishing everything that there wasn't any room for those feelings. She was in a constant state of desolation. She wanted to be selfishly independent, to fall back into that category she had deeply criticized herself for. Yet she also wanted to be able to talk to Dez without feeling uncertainty. Power was one thing but her feelings was a whole other rollercoaster.

"Girls always flock to the mall when they're angry, huh?" A southern voice teased.

A familiar face joined her in the booth. Immediately realizing who it was, she begins to clench her fist.

"I hope this seat isn't already taken because I'm sitting here now." He smiled, winking at her.

"Thanks for coming. Now I have an excuse to snap your neck." She gritted.

"Now, now, sweet pea—"

"Don't you dare sweet pea me, I'll break your face."

"Why are you here, Ryder?"

"Can't a guy just stroll around and then pop in to see his old buddy?"

"We were never _buddies._ You're the reason why I'm here. You're the reason why I got fired!"

Trish's voice began to raise and costumers were starting to observe the scene. Any other day she'd probably whip around and ask everyone what they were looking at, but she was too focused on lashing out. So focused on the high of wiping that smirk off his face and giving him a black eye or two. What could he possibly want after the little stunt he had pulled? He had already caused enough damage. Unless he was here to say she had gotten her job back, she wanted nothing to do with him.

"Now, now, Trish. I know what I did was probably wrong, but let's not forget that you were the one who chose not to do her own job. Though I'm not here to rub it in your face or anything. I've come here to have a proposal."

"What could you possibly say that'll make me forgive you for taking away something important to me?"

Ryder narrowed his forest eyes, lowering his voice as he spoke. "Oh, please. We both know that job meant nothin' to you." There was a certain edge to his tone, that cause her to shiver. He knew he was hitting all the pinpoints of her weaknesses, her insecurities. He knew exactly what to say to make her cower. He wasn't exactly wrong. She didn't necessarily care about the place until yesterday, but that didn't mean she wouldn't care for future jobs. He was just a lousy obstacle in her way of growth and a one way ticket to try harder on finding herself. So why was she still hidden in fear of breaking out of the mold she had created for herself?

"Talk." She demanded.

"Well now that you've been polite, I'll tell you. I think we've gotten out on the wrong foot for the past few days and I want to make that up to you. Well to the both of us." He smiled, clasping his hands together. "There's been a new type of hangout built downtown, and I thought it would be a great way for us to unwind after this week's event."

"You're an idiot if you think I'm going on a date with you!" She exclaimed, causing another scene.

"I never said it was a date. I just said it was a place to help us unwind. Unless you're ditching that Dez guy and want this to become a date." He raised his eyebrow, a small smirk playing on his lips.

"Dez and I never went on a date that night, genius."

It wasn't a total lie. They never verified whether or not the movies had been an actual date or just a hangout that turned into something more. She actually kind of wanted it to be considered a date. Going to the movies and hanging out with a friend wasn't supposed to make her feel like that. You didn't get butterflies or let the person you hated the most get away with kissing your cheek. You didn't let them hold your hand and you definitely didn't let your guts litter the floor for when you finally spilled everything you've been hiding. Maybe she was hysterical. It was probably just a hang out in Dez's eyes, and the thought kind of saddened her.

"Besides, what's in it for me? I don't wanna be dragged around by someone like you." She began, looking him straight in the eyes.

"Ouch. You sure do sting, buttercup. If you agree to go with me, I'll let you get one hit. I'll let you give me a bloody nose, or a black eye, or hey maybe even a kick to the groin if you're feelin' feisty."

"But the catch is is that you can only hit me once. So hit me with your best shot." He proceeded to poke his tongue out.

 _One hit._ One hit to knock Ryder Maxwell's massive ego to the curb. It was a pretty stingy offer, only giving her one chance to really leave him bruised for a couple of days. Though she couldn't necessarily pass up the offer to pummel (well technically hurt) him. He was willingly letting her get what she wanted. Willingly letting her give him what he _deserved._ This would definitely make up for him ratting her out. She didn't honestly see any loses out of this situation, but she felt rather pitiful taking up such a petty offer.

Yet she's Trish Del La Rosa, queen of sketchy offers.

It always ended up well, right? She would blow things up and ruin everything before the big night, or book the wrong places. Then by some magical sheer of force, things always found a way to fix themselves. _Without her._ She would always be the one to mess things up, and she felt like there was never gonna be a time to make things right.

And something felt right in punching the lights out of Ryder Maxwell.

"Fine. I'll take up your little proposal. But if you're more annoying than you already are today, I will hurt you at any given chance. Don't try me, Maxwell." She pointed her finger, eyes narrowing.

"You're sooooo feisty—"

"And you like it. I get it, now shut up."

 **—** —

So she's back at the place where she was once was curled up in bed, sappy at the thought of her and Dez together. She was once thinking of the what if's and the accidental touches and the breathless way she felt at the end of it all. She was immensely disgusted in the way she felt about everything going on, and yet she continued to want more it because she was used to things annoying her to no end; to never go quite her way. It was much easier to break Ryder's bones than to fall for Dez. It was so much easier to push Dez away and make him realize there was nothing between them. That there would _never_ be. Although the idea of leading him on sorta pained her, she tried her best to ignore the thought.

She stood in the shower, analyzing the way the warm water felt against her skin. She quickly shampooed her hair and exited out the bathroom. Shivering, she wrapped the towel around her tightly as she braced herself against the post shower breeze. It felt a little like Déjà vu. Yet instead of a environment with nervous and all good feelings, she was stuck standing in her own secondhand embarrassment. Filled to the brim of irritation, her hands grazed over the various fabrics of clothing. There wasn't too much she could dress up in without looking like she came from her own quinceanera. Sighing, she settled on blue t-shirt and a pair of black jeans. She layered it with a jacket and slipped into her slip-ons.

She was too lazy to do anything with her wet curls. Gathering a scrunchie and a few hair pins she gathered her hair into a messy bun. She smiled softly, remembering how her mother used to scold her about wearing her hair out damp. "You'll catch a cold, _mi hija_ "

 _"Well put together people wore makeup, right?"_ she would ask herself as she fanned through dark lashes with mascara. Makeup had honestly never really been her thing unless on special occasions. Though here she was, brushing on eyeshadow with the messy tips of her fingers, and applying soft tint to her lips. She didn't own concealer or anything like that, but she figured she could at least get some color to her cheeks by using blush. Her dark circles still hung visible, and there was nothing she could unfortunately do anything about.

She's a cheetah print clutch and zebra headband when Ryder finally arrives to her house. He's late and not even remotely interested in what type of music Trish De La Rosa is into. His nails are trimmed neatly and there's not a nervous bone in his body. He's not nervous about the girl in the passenger seat beside him. He's simply smug, a smile Trish wish she could get rid of. He knew he was attractive. He knew of how attractive he was. He knew he got a reaction out of Trish. He knew of how _right_ he was. Oh god, she couldn't wait until she got her hands on him.

They drove in silence, only the sound of the engine between them. Of course there was a slight country tune whistling through the speakers, and obviously he turned that off as soon as she decided to pick up her dignity and get in the truck. Country music was revolting to Trish, and Ryder could see that with the turn of her nose. Though it was amusing, finding little ticks to annoy her. He thought girls were pretty attractive when they wanted to maul him in the face, and that's what he was allowing Trish to do tonight. Smirking, he ran a hand through his hair while turning into a parking lot.

It wasn't as big as she thought it was be. It was a decent size, but it didn't look like it could hold too many people without it getting crowded so fast. The vibration of the music followed them to the car. These were the types of places she would book for Austin for when he was just an upcoming artist with big dreams. It had the words 'Club Haze' plastered on the building, with grand opening beside it. It sent a wave of nostalgia, an early time where they were all starting off and it was actually reasonable for them to make mistakes.

"Is this a nightclub? Don't we need ID's or something?" Trish questioned, fidgeting with her bracelet.

"Like I said, it was specifically built for older teens. The only thing they can really get away with selling here I beer." He smiled, checking his watch.

"Well let's hurry this up. The quicker this is done, the quicker I can rearrange your face."

"You're so cute when you're threatening me."

So they're entering the place like the two awkward teens they both are, but instead Trish has never felt so out of place and of course Ryder is an even bigger jerk with his massive ego. They're greeted by the reflection of disco lights and the multicolored strobe of the retro looking dancefloor. Electronic music is playing and claustrophobia isn't even the word to describe how it felt in this place. Rowdy boys sat watching a muted football game over a plate of wings while girls filled up their storage with endless selfies. Usually she would like some place like this, but everything felt too _loud._ Too _much._ She wished to be some place quieter, some place with Dez babbling about any and everything. She wanted his voice to drown out these sucky lyrics.

She flinched when Ryder placed a hand on her back.

"You need to loosen up. Have something to drink or something." He smiled.

"Whatever. Just don't touch me unless you want to be bruised early." She replied, removing his hand.

"Your choice. It's not my hit I'm wasting." He said, matter-of-factly.

They both head over to the bar-like space of the hangout and seated themselves on the barstools. Others sat conversing, some trying their best to get a free drink or two from one of the waiters. When she examined their weary faces, it reminded her just of how crappy being a waitress or cashier could be. There were too many people to please. Too many people who wanted you to do better. She could think back to all the cheapskates who left little to no tips. To the impatient costumers who realized they couldn't order a big meal and have it come in the span of two minutes. To the all the people who criticized all it's workers for not finding a better job.

And maybe that was the problem.

She knew waitressing wasn't exactly the most ideal job out there. She knew she never enjoyed being a waitress. She never knew anyone who even remotely liked it. That was the missing piece of the puzzle. That she didn't _enjoy_ it. There was no point in doing anything she didn't even slightly like. There was no point in putting in all her time and effort into a job that meant nothing to her. She _loved_ being a manager. She was the best at making sure her friends reached their fullest potential. She was the best at making mistakes and fixing them later on.

And maybe in the moment, nothing Ryder could say would hurt her.

"So what do you want to drink?" Ryder asked, snapping her from her thoughts.

"Just get me a water." She replied, staring off into the distance.

"Not much of a big drinker are ya?" He chuckled.

"Just shut up and give me the water."

While Ryder ordered the drink, she watched as a couple swayed to the music. Everything about this screamed carefree with their big grins and their touchy feely behavior. She was quietly envious of how the girl's blond curls acted as a waterfall cascading down her shoulders. She smiled though, at the sight of how infatuated the guy looked. She wondered if Dez looked at her in that way, or if they were really just being stupid that night. If what she was feeling was indeed a crush, she had every right to feel silly. It was so weird, wishing someone wanted to be with you as much as you wanted to be with them. It was a new feeling for Trish. The last fling she had ever been involved with had been Chuck, and now that she looked, there was an uncanny resemblance to him and Ryder.

Ryder slid her glass of water down toward her, some of the liquid sloshing out of it. She took a long sip, the water pleasingly cold. She let herself fade out with the music, but stuff like that wasn't longingly possible when there was a southern nuisance pestering her.

"So what are you planning to do now?" He questioned, downing his beer.

"Oh, I don't know. Getting far away from you actually." Trish gritted.

"I don't know why you're so bitter about it. I mean, I quit the place." He replied before asking the waiter for another bear.

"Your problem is that you think you're so better than everyone else you meet. You think you know everything about the people you meet. Yet you don't know anything about me. You don't know how hard I've tried or how many times I've had to start over after getting fired. You just take what you see from the outside and destroy it with your assumptions. I'm tired of your crap. I hope someone knocks you down. I hope you flatten your own ego. I hope you're haunted by your present self."

And he's just laughing, downing his beers and ignoring her. Trish doesn't seem to care though, finishing her water and turning her attention back to the same pair she's been looking at all night. She watches as they seem like the only people in the room in a sea of sweaty bodies. He's kissing her, hands around her waist in a fit of passion. She thinks about the way Dez's hair would feel in her hands and how amazing it must feel to be in love. She thinks about the fireworks you must feel feeling their lips on yours.

"But the difference between you and me is that I'm better. No one would like someone like you tarnishing their business. Think about it. Who's the more hardworking out of the two of us?"

His speech was slurring and all Trish could feel was her blood boiling. He was right, wasn't he? There weren't too many examples of her being responsible or doing things the way she was supposed to. She made him do all her work for him. She had every right to be fired. She couldn't deny it. It was all stupid, wasn't it? Letting him drag her here. She should have realized earlier it was more of her fault for getting fired. He had just played a part in it. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes and how her chest tightened up. She smiled.

"No. The _real_ difference between us is that have someone who seems me for who I really am. For who I'm constantly trying to work toward, for who I'm trying to be. All you have is a stupid block of cheese to witness how much of a prick you are. I know who the real me is. You'll never be able know who you are."

Trish smiled, getting up from her place on the barstool. Fishing around in her clutch, she placed a few rumpled bills on the counter and walked toward the entrance. Confused, Ryder rubbed his temples, drunkenly paying the bill. He sluggishly got up and followed Trish into the summer night.

"Wait up. Where do you think you're going? I'll drive you home." He slurred, grabbing her arm.

Trish flinched, tears streaking her face as she turned around.

"You did this. You got drunk on purpose so I wouldn't beat you up without getting in trouble. You prick. You idiot. You stupid, stupid, idiot." She sobbed, banging her fists into his chest violently.

She wasn't too sure of why she was crying. She was so confident within herself. So why was she crying? She wasn't supposed to care about what Ryder thought about her anymore. His words weren't supposed to mean anything to her. Though here she stood with blurred vision and her back against the wall as Ryder cornered her.

"Get away from me! You're drunk." She screamed, shaking fearfully.

"You're so gullible, Trish. You don't _really_ know what you want." He breathed, his breath causing the bile in her throat.

She slid to the ground, face in her hands as picked up the broken pieces. She needed to get ahold of Dez, she needed to hear his voice. She needed to know she wasn't completely wrong, that she could change and be whoever she wanted to be. That Ryder wasn't as right as she thought she was. Pulling her cellphone out of her pocket, she dialed his number. Taking a deep breath, she allowed herself to get up and push him out of the way.

"Who are you calling? I said I would take you home."

"You're drunk, stupid. Good luck finding your own ride home." She smiled, putting the phone to her ear.

She crossed her fingers, hoping he would be up at this hour as the dial tone rung. After a few rings, she felt a sense of relief as he finally picked up.

"Wade residence." He yawned.

"Dez, thank god. I need you to pick me up. I'm at a place called Club Haze." She wiped her snotty nose on her sleeve.

"Are you okay? You still sound different."

"Just come pick me up, please."

This time he promises that he'll pick her up at exactly at 11:30 and when he comes in 11:31, he's worried sick that she'll be mad at him breaking his promise. She shushes his anxieties while he turns to that station she likes. She smiles as Ryder's figure is struggling to be seen. Good riddance. They ride in silence, with Dez's bitten nails and some soft melody floating through the radio. It felt like yesterday, with unsaid feelings and some girl singing about love. She yearned to talk to him, but the words were stuck in her throat. She looked out the window, the streetlights a constant blur as they passed by.

"Are you and Ryder...like a thing? Is that why you felt so bad today? Because you didn't know how to tell me that we couldn't see each other anymore?" He broke the silence.

They continued to sit there, Trish stunned by the assumption and Dez quivering in question. Out of all the years of their friendship, Trish had never seen Dez look so down, look so disappointed. There were so many things she wanted to say. To explain. To talk about. So Dez was really serious about them? She hadn't been silly to think of them becoming something more. More than _this._ She was a mess of emotion, struggling to determine which one she would express first. Instead of words, there was a laugh. And then there were tears.

"Oh God no, Dez. Ryder and I would never be a thing. Don't be such a doof." She croaked, doubled over from laughing and painful tears.

"Then why was he there when I picked up?"

She could see that he was trying his best to keep the hurt from creeping into his voice, as if he was just generally curious of their whereabouts. Sighing, he pulled the car over to the side of the rode.

"What are you doing?"

"I need to know if I need to stop liking you." He whispered.

More silence. More regret. More questions.

"What?"

"Just tell me why Ryder was ther—"

"You wanna know why I was there with him? Because I'm a fool. I'm the biggest idiot to have walked this Earth. He was right. I don't know what I want or who I am. I agreed to hang out with him just for the sole purpose that I got to beat him up at the end of the night. I was so mad about getting fired because of him that I realized I was so stupid. I had every right to get fired, Dez. I'm no better than he is."

Ashamed, she unbuckled her seat belt and opened the door. She couldn't be here. Not with him. Not when she had hurt him. He was too nice. She was too abrasive, too uncaring of anything and everything around her. She wasn't soft or pretty or gentle. She was reckless, messy, and indecisive. Wiping her tears, she began to exit her car with a small mumble of a 'thank you' before slamming the door behind her. Trudging through the grass, she began to decipher her way home.

"Trish!" Dez yelled, his car door opening.

She hummed that love song from the car, ignoring him as she begged to get farther away from the one she wanted.

"Trish!"

 _This fear of being loved,  
Allegiance to the pain._

"You can't keep running from your problems!" He yelled once more, his voice cracking.

"I've been doing it for seventeen years and it's gotten me pretty far." She replied.

"Please just stay." He begged.

"And why should I? So I can just keep making a fool out of myself?"

 _"Because I don't want to be that problem you run away from."_

By then he had caught up with her, his heartbeat ringing in his ears as he approached her. He was afraid she would slip through his fingertips again, that she'd run too far and disappear forever. Trish closed her eyes, fearing that if he touched her she'd break and he'd only cut his hands on her jagged edges.

"I didn't mean to upset you. I just really like you a lot, okay? It's weird. I think about you a lot and my head is spinning and you mean a lot to me and I know I talk a lot. Is your heart supposed to beat this much?" He chuckled, digging his hands into his pockets.

"It's okay if you don't like me back. I'll just have to stop liking you...and sometimes I really don't want to do that because maybe if I continued to like you maybe there'd be an alternate universe where you like me too."

There was a burst of relief and happiness and fear and fuzziness as she listened to his confession. Dezmond Wade liked her. She hadn't been silly for thinking of him and all the little things he's done for her. She hadn't been dumb to think there was a possibility. Dez had been the one thing she felt she had gotten right, and now she could know for sure she could be with him in the way she had dreamed. She was blushing again, teary-eyed at how good it felt to be enough for someone.

"I thought I was so stupid to fall for you. To think that last night meant nothing in between us because I was too scared to think of the possibility of being together with you. To think you actually liked someone like me. I'm grateful you see some good in me. Thank you, Dez."

They stood in silence, her face burning and her hands fidgeting as she felt his gaze on her. Removing his hands, he walked closer toward Trish. She suddenly felt small when she took note of his height. His hands were warm from being in his pockets, his thumb caressing her cheek gently. She didn't know she was holding her breathe. They were such in close proximity and she didn't want him to hear how uneasy her breathing had became. Maybe she hadn't even been breathing at all.

She could see all the freckles that decorated his face like stars and the shades of blue within his eyes. He wished to wash away in everything she had to offer, he never wanted to stop buzzing from whatever this weird feeling was. _He never wanted to let her go._ He wanted this to last forever. For this moment to repeat and repeat until his body ached too much from feeling. He wrapped his arms around her which knocked Trish off balance. She was afraid, not knowing of what to do. She thought back to the way the girl had her hands in his hair. Trish found herself playing with a small strand at the back of his head.

Dez has to bend down to reach her and she laughs at the thought of what they're about to do. Their lips parted, Dez finally closes the gap in between them and Trish couldn't be anymore happy. It's a shy and awkward experience. Mouths against teeth and nose bumping. They chuckle into the kiss and Trish knows it's nothing like the kiss she watched happen at the hangout. But it didn't matter because it was _their_ kiss. Their foreheads touch at the end of it, eyes searching one another's.

"Was that..okay?" He whispered.

"It was everything." She breathed.

Dez smiled, kissing her nose.

"Good, because you are my _everything_."

And maybe it was the night that she realized she didn't have to be afraid of anything.

* * *

 **Whooo! Finally got this second one-shot out for you guys! I apologize for the delay but I did start school last week and it will be pretty busy. I'll most likely update on weekends since I should have time like I did today. I want give a big thank you to all of those who reviewed my story. That meant so much to me as I doubted my fic. This one was kinda angsty, but I loved how the ending turned out. So what did you think? Feedback and Constructive Criticism is always appreciated. Review, Fave, Follow. Until the next one-shot!~**


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